A Box of Silken Cloths
by mille feuille marzipan
Summary: Lyon had read about warriors in the east who could turn invisible within the blink of an eye. He was starting to think Knoll was one of them. Pre-game. Young!Lyon and Young!Knoll.


**Title:** A Box of Silken Cloths**  
Fandom:** Fire Emblem**  
Summary:** Lyon had read about warriors in the east who could turn invisible within the blink of an eye. He was starting to think Knoll was one of them. Pre-game. Young!Lyon and Knoll.**  
Disclaimer:** I don't own Fire Emblem or any of its characters.

-x-

Grado Keep is considered to be the most intimidating shadow found within the nation's borders.

To little Prince Lyon—who, at the current moment, is using his six years of acquired strength running through every hall and passageway throughout the entirety of the castle—it might as well have been the entire nation itself.

The young prince knew of the Grado's militant background and warrior history, starting from the empire's foundations ("And thus did the hero Grado and his companions handed peace and prosperity unto the lands; so the earth between the desert and the mountains became an empire by his namesake.") to its subsequent conquests (Lyon never knew the peninsula to the southwest belonged to the Native Magvelians prior to the Year 100) and beyond. He knew of such kingdoms like Frelia and Rausten and Jehanna and Renais (_especially_ Renais, for it was said that their alliance was as strong and lengthy as the friendship of the hero Grado and the knight Renald itself). He knew of the lands and seas far past this place. However, the castle became all he's ever known, as he was only allowed to go as far as the surrounding gates six times his height.

Lyon has grown used to the dark shadows and silhouettes of the Keep watching him, guarding him. They kept him safe from the people he aimed to avoid and lead him to those he wished to see—in this situation, that would be his close friend, Knoll.

Knoll was a very solemn and introverted child, preferring to read heavy texts in the dim light their vast library provided rather than play outside like normal children his age. Being only one year Lyon's senior, it was hard to believe this darkly cloaked child to be an erudite student of "elder magic," as he would put it (since the term "dark magic" is highly biased, affiliated with the assumed definition of "evil" and such vague, abstract concepts of the sort). Knoll was quiet and extremely reclusive; however, he would always spare time for Lyon, if the younger boy asked.

While other people make it a habit to stray away from the shaman-to-be, Lyon simply adores the other's company. Ever since the young prince could remember, Knoll had always been there. Lyon's late mother—may the heavens bless her resting soul—was the cherished sister of a Duke near Taizel. When his mother had heard the Duke suddenly became a widower with a newborn child, she extended her hand in kindness and (with the king's permission) allowed them to stay at the Keep. The Duke, ever grateful for this display of generosity, offered his services to the royal family and raised his child to do the same.

After his mother's death, the Duke was starting to become a nuisance to the throne and was banished from the castle, though his son was kept in place after showing some promise within the arcane arts. That boy grew to be Knoll, as Lyon so cleverly discovered none too long ago. In fact, he was in search of the scholarly new-cousin in order to tell him about their kinship. The only problem was that he didn't know where Knoll was.

Lyon had read about warriors in the east who could turn invisible within the blink of an eye. He was starting to think Knoll was one of them.

"Where are you?" the sickly royal muttered to himself, puffing his cheeks in thought—a cute and childish habit that he could never seem to get rid of (not that the maids ever minded). Lyon had checked every possible area that Knoll would hide himself in: his chambers, the library, the secret staircase to a small study below ground, everywhere! The future emperor was starting to get worried. He ran further down the hall fervently, making a sharp turn at a corner before he suddenly bumped into something.

"Ah! Forgive me, Your Highness." General Duessel apologized as soon as he looked down and saw his liege's son sitting on the floor, rubbing his forehead. The knight carefully helped the boy back to his feet, hoping that the boy hadn't run into his armor as hard as it sounded, "There is no need to be rushing so, my prince. Whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait."

"Pardon me, General; I was just looking for Knoll." He replied, bowing his head slightly, "Have you seen him?"

"Knoll?" Duessel repeated, wracking his mind for a face to match the name, "The one under the tutelage of Professor Reglay, isn't he? The boy who always wears a hooded shaman garb a bit too large for his size?"

"Yes, sir, him!" Lyon confirmed excitedly, face lighting up like a torch. The armored warrior shook his head.

"I'm sorry, my prince, but I have not seen young Knoll either." Duessel was about to take his leave, but the heart-wrenching expression the smaller boy wore made the task hard. In fact, the general known as the great Obsidian—who felled seas of endless warriors and more after that—succumbed to his prince's pout.

"However, Your Highness," the man started, going down on one knee to face Lyon at eye level, "perhaps I could help you look for him."

Lyon's face seemed to light up considerably, "Would you really, General?"

"Of course, my prince." Duessel said, "As a knight, it is my duty to ensure the safety of the next king. 'Twould be a shame, after all, if you were to be injured during your quest."

Said future king giggled at the older knight's diction; he had never truly had any adventure, even a youthful sort. Lyon was thankful that General Duessel was trying to lift his spirits.

"Many thanks to you, General Duessel!" the lavender-haired prince exclaimed happily, "Now, if we may, let's proceed with our quest!"

—And thus, the pair started off. The iron-clad warrior had only meant this to appease his poor prince but with each passing corridor and still no boy to be found, the man had started to get a bit worried as well.

"Your Highness, we've searched high and low for him, and yet we've not even come across a speck of dust." Duessel told the boy after the long trek. They had wound up outside near the stables, in a large shed storing towers of crates. Lyon hoisted himself up onto a crate and sat himself down on its surface, an uncharacteristic frown marring his soft features.

"I don't understand… We should have…" the lavender-eyed boy started and trailed off into different sentence fragments until, "Perhaps he's avoiding me?"

"Nonsense, my prince." The taller man reassured, "You are Knoll's boon companion, are you not? There should be no reason for him to avoid you."

"But… The secret!" Lyon said, small hands slamming the wood beneath him.

"Secret, milord?"

Lyon nodded, "Yes, we—!"

His declaration was abruptly interrupted by a large thud coming from within the crate he was seated on. Gasping, the lordling immediately dismounted from his spot and ran behind Duessel, who held out a small dagger in case of an attack. A cry came from within the barriers of the crate—something that faintly resembled a cry for help. The general, brows furrowed in confusion, carefully approached the box before slicing the belt-latches open and lifting off the lid.

What he found inside was definitely not an assault stratagem.

"Knoll!" the future king of Grado exclaimed, mouth agape with surprise. Indeed, the darkly clothed student was sitting inside the crate, wrists tied behind his back as he was surrounded by a sea of silk linens and cloths imported from the sprouting Republic of Carcino. It was an endearing sight—especially since the color of the silks matched the shades Knoll's robes, thus making his tiny form blend in with the cloth. Duessel lifted the older boy from his wooden prison (after struggling with trying to discern his wardrobe with the imports, of course) and untied his wrists. The three went back inside the castle with haste since the cold started to flow in.

"Who did this to you, lad?" the slightly graying general asked as he watched the boy smooth out his robes, "I doubt that you would play hide-and-seek from Your Highness whilst you were bound by your hands."

For the first time any of them had ever seen, calm and composed Knoll scowled distastefully, "None other than that lunatic lizard tamer, Valter. I had bumped into him after I ran an errand for Master Reglay. Surely he was in a foul mood, for the second contact was established, he grabbed me and put me in the situation you witnessed firsthand."

"Truly?" Lyon asked, knowing that while Valter was a scary man, he had never heard him lay a finger on the Keep's residents.

"Lest I had mistaken those hollow-clear eyes for another, then yes, my prince, truly!" the future shaman replied indignantly, arms crossed and cheeks puffed with irritation. Lyon stifled a small giggle at the expression—Knoll was never one to display such childish faces. They were escorted back to Knoll's chambers, where Duessel had to part with them.

"I'll see to it that Valter is disciplined." The knight reassured them, bowing his head respectfully.

Grado's prince smiled gratefully, "Thank you, General."

Once he had left, Lyon excitedly turned to his new kin, "Guess what, Knoll? I found out a secret that you would never have believed!"

His best friend smiled teasingly, "Truly?"

Sensing the joke, the lavender-haired boy hit the other playfully in the arm, "Lest I had mistaken our persons for others named Lyon and Knoll, then yes, my dear friend, truly!"

"Well, milord, perhaps you can enlighten me on this secret…" the darker lavender-haired boy suggested.

"Me? Enlighten you? Why, you're already beyond my level of comprehension!" Lyon told him, raising his arms up for emphasis.

Knoll shook his head at the gesture, "I receive more credit than what is due to me, my prince."

"But it's true. In fact, you might already know the secret!"

The robed boy laughed, "You never know, my prince. You never know."

-x-

"Prince Lyon, I urge you to please reconsider!"

Much to his horror, the Stone already started to release its shadowy aura in the face of the late king and the empire's crown prince. Lyon, eyes filled with desperation and sorrow, smiled as he held the Dark Stone in his fragile hands.

"You would have me give up in my research?" his prince asked him. To Knoll's horror, Lyon couldn't even seem to remember who he was. To this Lyon, Knoll was simply another shaman who had aided him with unraveling the mysteries of the Dark Stone.

"My prince, this is unwise of you to do. The Stone is emitting a heavy miasma. Succumbing to it will-!"

"You were there!" Lyon suddenly yelled at him, face contorting into an expression of anger. He was taken aback by the once-gentle prince's sudden outburst, "You saw it alongside me! If we do not act now, our country will be ravaged by disaster!"

This was not happening, the arcane practitioner repeated to himself, this was definitely not happening. This was a dream. Lyon is still in his room, resting as he should. He would get up and sit in the gardens and Knoll would find him and talk to him and they would laugh and this _is not real, this can't be real, Lyon can't be turning to such dangerous things—!_

"My prince…" he said in a deathly serious tone, "this won't work. If you submit to its seductions, the darkness will overwhelm you."

Lyon slowly smiled that hollow smile—and his fears surfaced as he realized that his prince was already long gone.

"You never know, Knoll."

-x-

Knoll sat in the shed where he had been humorously imprisoned years ago. He sat in the same crate, with the same linens and cloths of dark silk running through his fingers. The light was dim. The air was cold. The land was at peace.

Recollecting the events past, his heart ached for the kin who had given him companionship and friendship the longest. His heart ached for his kin.

"Knoll? Are you in there?"

"Yes." He replied in his usual somber tone. Footsteps approached and the door opened, revealing none other than Obsidian himself.

"What are you doing in here?"

The summoner sighed, looking down at the silks, "Simply looking for memories."

Duessel—having lost his own happy and playful recollections of the past to the near apocalyptic war of the Demon King—furrowed his brows, trying to grasp the younger man's logic, "Memories? In a dreary place like this?"

Knoll looked at him, giving a melancholy half-smile to his fellow comrade.

"You never know."

-x-

I hadn't expected it to turn out like it had at the end, but I guess it just adds a certain depth to it. I really love Lyon and Knoll; the two need more love in this fandom. Not necessarily together, but in general. They really do look somewhat alike, though. I love this kind of family dynamic between them.

I also noticed that the text was really heavy at the beginning but started to dwindle down during the end. It wasn't intentional, but I guess if you can find some sort of meaning that would fit, hey go for it.


End file.
